


Secrets Are the Sweetest Things

by Eavans



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Anxiety, Cigarettes, Dirty Talk, Drug-Induced Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Secret Relationship, Swearing, actor!dan, am i using that tag right, famous but for other things, rich/poor divide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eavans/pseuds/Eavans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i><b> Actor!Dan AU –</b></i> When contract-ridden, “clean cut” Dan Howell is moved out to L.A. for his last movie shoot, the last thing he expects is to enter a relationship with a poor, drug dealing waiter. Be it from the tabloids, his controlling agent, or the authorities – the two must hide their secrets, especially if fate – <i>if you even believe in that stuff</i> – has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets Are the Sweetest Things

**Author's Note:**

> __  
> **Inspired by Halsey’s song[Strange Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-Jo25SL56A).**  
>   
> 
>  **Genre:**  fluff, angst, drama, tiny bit smutty
> 
>  **Word Count:** 17.6k
> 
>  **Warnings:**  questioning of sexuality, alcohol as a drink and to numb emotion, cigarette smoking, swearing, brief sexual harassment, stalking, workplace manipulation, verbal abuse, anxiety, recreational amphetamine use during sex, dirty talk, pretentious book quoting 
> 
>  **A/N:** What started as a short drabble on the song Strange Love grew into a monster I couldn’t really contain and a month of work later here it is (I’m tired). I want to thank my friends at school who encouraged me to keep going though, so Gracie, [vcmpirecas](http://tmblr.co/m4uTpaWp5iRoeJkm3vjztuw), and [clarithi](http://tmblr.co/mK0Q99t5rsBss6nRvVo7LAg), thanks for being cool. I hope you all enjoy this and please don’t be afraid to send feedback, I love to hear from readers so so much :’) 
> 
>  
> 
> [ **Playlist** ](http://8tracks.com/eavans/secrets-are-the-sweetest-things-1)

_** “I want - I want somehow to get away with you into a world where words like that -categories like that- won't exist. Where we shall be simply two human beings who love each other, who are the whole of life to each other; and nothing else on earth will matter.” ** _

_ ― Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence _

…….  


_Shadow people._

_That’s what the paparazzi where. Shadows who hunted, a vicious game of predator and prey. They hid behind the world during the day and strung up their victims at night, forever shifting and moulding into the most convenient shape that snapped the right picture, snuck the next big video devoid of context, stole a bit of him as they reached a hand out..._

Dan didn’t not want to get out of bed. And he hated himself because of it.

Today he had his last read through, and it was in less than three hours – his part _“essential”_.

“Essential” in this business meant a bimbo love interest – the attraction piece a faceless girl with perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect skin. He was not perfect and the actress wasn’t either. It was all so fake.

He didn’t find girls very attractive. Sexuality was not something he could think about because it only confused him, so he blamed it on the poor reality of the girls he had slid his tongue on, paper cutouts of people his hands only reduced to clippings and the taste of heavy screen makeup poisoning him one taste at a time. Maybe if he could touch a real girl…? No. He didn’t like girls much that way anymore, if he ever did to begin with.

He groaned. _Neil would most likely be there today._ Neil his agent, his captor, his – well he didn’t really know how to describe him, except that somehow just being in the same room as him made Dan uneasy, the power sucked from the room down into the short, 5’ 5” man. Neil didn’t let him go out past 10 or let him wear his own clothes, he didn’t really let Dan do _anything_ , always afraid of it messing up his image. He had outgrown the boyish, toothy persona years ago, but the contract stayed – and so then Dan did too.

He was at the read-through when things started to unravel. He wasn’t delivering his lines well and the woman next to him smelled heavily of lilies. It clogged his nose and the water bottle was glued to his hand, calculated sips so as not to pass out from stress. _9 more months_ he thought. _It’s this and I’m out._ He wondered what he would do after it, suddenly aware he had no plan for the future. Maybe he’d go into the fashion business, get his foot in the door with modeling and then maybe climb high enough do some designing. Shit, _he could start a fashion blog._ That’d be relatively easy and secluded. He left feeling a tinge of freedom, possibilities less than a year away…

___

Dan didn’t usually go out past midnight, but as he walked down the foggy, rain swept road he found his eyes trailing on the neon lights and pedestrians longer than normal, the tension seething until eventually they left his eyesight. _Who was his friend, and who was out to get him?_ The night had a certain charm to it though, even if he wanted to say it mocked him. People walked without a care, held hands, thoughts only to the people with them. Despite the numbing fear he was being watched, he still wished to go out more often. _If I can get out_ , he thought bitterly. _See if I care if management notices. Curfew my ass._

He brought his hood down and walked into a small Chinese restaurant, smiling at the tinny cling of bells as he sat himself at a table in the corner. From outside, the place was as inconspicuous as he could have hoped, but he didn’t want to chance anything either; Dan made sure his back was to the door. He took his raincoat off and hung it on his chair.

“Would you like some water?”

Without looking up, he accepted. He focused on the green hygienic lighting tinging his arms before looking up, and he noticed the place was a little more sketchy than he previously thought: an obnoxious buzz came from the kitchen. Sat at the counter was a Maneki-neko, it’s paw reverentially swatting at flies.

The server came back with a plastic cup of water and a menu. “We’re only serving things on the first page at this time.”

Dan looked over the page half in Chinese, half in English. “Er– I’ll just have some rice.” He didn’t know what most of the dishes were now that he looked over it. _What had possessed him into thinking this was a good idea?_

“Do you want soup? It’s been raining for days I know that’s what I like to have when the weather's so sad. California doesn’t get rain like this usually, you’d think we were home.”

“You can’t read Chinese can you?” Dan ignored him, trying to read _something_ from the menu.

“Oh no, I just work here. Live upstairs. Took Latin in school but-”

Dan looked up. _How could he have missed it?_ The server was English, northern accent and skin to match. “Your accent,” he said it as a statement.

“Yeah, from Lancashire originally.” He put the paper slip down ran his hand through straight, ear length black hair. “What about you?”

Dan didn’t know why the waiter was telling him all of this, it just seemed _too coincidental, too good to be true..._

“Right, do you know who I am because I’ll sign whatever you want, just please let me eat in peace and don’t tell the man outside – I know someone followed.” _What a mistake God he couldn’t go anywhere what was even the point-_

“What?” The server looked down to where Dan had ran his hands through his curling brown hair, clearly confused.

And yet Dan wasn’t fully convinced.

“Don’t play dumb with him I’m Dan- _fucking_ -Howell.” He looked up at the concerned server. “You could sell that cup with my lip mark on it for a £1000. I’ll even sign the damn thing for you.”

The man’s bottom lip pressed in with teeth marks. “Er – well I’m Phil. Phil Lester.” He scratched his neck awkwardly. “And if it makes a difference I just moved here, so I actually don’t know who you are. Are you still hungry?”

Dan continued his look up to the waiter, trying to read some kind malice on his face. “You’re not lying? Teen idol _Dan Howell_?” he asked tentatively.

“I promise. I'm not really the age range anyway. 26.” Phil crouched down. “What do I have to do for you to trust me?” He whispered it, despite the fact they were the only two in the room.

Dan hadn’t thought of that. Most people _did_ know who he was. All he wanted now was to eat and be home, but with the paparazzo outside–? He was pretty screwed.  

“Can you get the guy following me to leave?” Dan asked honestly.

The waiter licked his lips, looking outside contemplatively. “Okay here’s the deal.” He swallowed. “I shouldn't really have photos of me taken either.”

Dan leaned back in surprise. “Why?”

“Can I trust you?”

“Can we trust anyone?”

That made Phil (he supposed he could call him by his name) giggle a little; he held onto the table with both hands as the dirty-white of his apron scrunched harmoniously with the movement. “Touché. You know what? Soup on me. If you want we can come upstairs and talk?” He phrased the last part as a question. “My window overlooks the front, we can wait until the man leaves. I should already be off, John’s just late for the night shift.”

Dan sat up. “You’d do that for me?”

“I’m more lonely than you think.” Phil tried to adjust his hair in a somewhat orderly fashion, fingers shaking slightly.

“Touché.”

The Maneki-neko waved as the pairs nervous laughter weaved the beginning of a velvet fate.

___

“So why are you living here?” Phil handed him a steaming soup with a plastic spoon, clearing the junk from his nightstand so Dan could rest it there.

“I’m an actor.” It looked good, the bowl burning in agreement.

“What movies have you done?”

Dan laughed. “Mostly teen girl chick-flicks. Vapid and stereotypical.” He took a taste of the eggy broth. “I always seem to be the hot boytoy. Not to give anything away but I am the lead in this new one.” It was an attempt of humor he didn’t think came across well, so he cleared it up. “I’m joking you know, I hate all of it with a passion. It’s completely different though, so much more serious. It’s a little weird. It’s a proper movie.”

“I got the joke.” He laughed softly. “Must be exciting.”

“Still don’t like it.”

“Are you going to quit after this movie?” Phil cooled his soup and leaned against the wall next to him.

“Yeah. Contract ends the week after the release. And with that I’m going home. Maybe be more sun there than what we’ve been having, Jesus Christ.” He gestured to the window. “He gone yet?”

Phil got up and peered through the blinds like a meerkat, narrowed eye behind cupped hands. “I think he’s gone. That’s so crazy. And I thought I was wanted…” He laughed quietly to himself.

“So why don’t you want your photo taken? You’ve got the best hiding place, I can tell you that much.” He looked around. Phil’s house was little more than a room, one bed pushed up against a window with a cluttered dresser and a small adjoining bathroom. It was still slightly weird to him, he couldn’t believe he was talking to someone who didn’t want him for their own personal gain. It was nice, reassuring even – that good people still existed. His last real friend had been in childhood, his career taking off soon after hitting teenage-dom and the remnants of the previous relationships always seeming to come back to him in the worst way possible. He’d lost count of how many had attempted to reconnect, only to find out it was for a bit of money or a twitter follow.

Phil took his apron off now to reveal a plain, cheap t-shirt. One shoulders’ stitching was coming undone. “Can you keep a secret?” He threw it on the dresser.

Dan laughed. “You _are_ housing Britain’s most wanted teen icon. I don’t think it can get bigger than that.”

“What’s that like?” He didn’t notice the fact Phil had glossed over the topic of this secret, trying to ignore the bit of shirt stuck up to reveal marble skin.

“Teen idol?” He scoffed, breaking his daze. “Exhausting. Depressing. Frustrating.”

“Plenty of girls, right?” Phil laughed awkwardly, eyeing Dan’s response.

“Can’t. Management.” _Did he go into it? Fuck it._

“I’m gay.”

He had never voiced it out loud before, the words ringing like a thrown glass on tile. _Why in the fucking world was he saying this to a guy he only just met?_ It was reckless, stupid and reckless, a rookie mistake in the entertainment business. One night stands made tabloid tell-alls, and he had had too many close encounters before he wised up. _Bisexual_ was different, bisexual meant the guys he slept with couldn't deny his films or rush to tell the press. _But maybe he’s different_ , Dan thought lighthearted, because it was awfully hard to act straight with him in the room. “At least I think I am. Girls don’t do anything for me.”

“Really?”

Dan placed the now empty bowl on the nightstand across from him, eyeing his response as he leaned over Phil. For a second their shoulders touched, and he had to remind himself to stop being such a schoolkid. _Calm the fuck down Howell._

“That’s another secret you can’t tell. I’d get figuratively ass whipped.” He leant back. All seemed – _calm_. He hadn’t expected that.

“They don’t sound like a very good people, Dan.”

He looked over. Phil’s face was of an utter complacency of concern, set as if he could stare at Dan for as long as it would take for him to understand the pain he verbalised and it not take one breath away from the former. It made his cheeks warm, and he cursed himself for being so juvenile again. _Don’t give yourself away, damn it._ “They’re awful but my contracts up in 9 months so we’ll see where I am then. Just started my last movie.” He picked up a blanket from the bed and wound it around him, softening the wall on his back. “What about you? Where are you in 9 months?”

Phil toed the end of the blanket. “Hopefully still working here.”

“You don’t have any more plans?” Dan didn’t mean to sound rude, but it struck him as awfully sad. Phil only smiled sheepishly.

“I sell amphetamines. Mostly Adderall. That’s my secret. I’d go to jail pretty quick if they found the stuff I sell.”

Dan gaped. If Phil hadn’t hung his head so low or looked away to the window so quickly, he would have laughed. This guy _, with the least intimidating face in the world_ , dealing drugs? Granted, he didn’t really know him, but that was sort of a serious offense. He finally realised what he had been smelling all night, nicotine; an ashtray on the nightstand confirming the idea.

“I use the money to send to my brother up north. He has leukaemia.” There was a heavy silence. “And well – we’re not really that rich. I had to quit school because I couldn’t pay for it by myself. Cambridge kid here.” He gave a gameshow smile. “I moved to the cheapest place I could in London, but I had a friend here who convinced me LA was better. There’s more buyers down here I guess. Stars are surprisingly big consumers. It’s alright, but I can’t afford to use it, I just sell.”

Dan caught on he was talking about the drugs. “It’s not glamorous, I’ll give you that. I’ve bought from dealers like you back home.”

“Good service?” he laughed.

“Slept with one.”

“Oh.”

They sat silently sneaking glances at the other, lazy eyes with somber lips, it made the room an air of differential chaos, both drinking in the ebb and flow of each other's misfortunes, grateful for the confidant neither had before this night. The talk continued for hours after, finally settling down when Phil checked the clock.

“It’s near three, we should sleep.” He looked hesitantly at Dan, highlighting the single bed. "Unless you want to go home?"

Dan swallowed. "Not particularly." He didn’t look at Phil, instead focusing on the small stain on the blanket, his heart racing. He could _so be_ a murderer, and here he was trying to get with him. _This was so sad._

“Here, you can borrow some pajamas."

 _So this was happening_. “Are you sure?” He didn't want to be nuisance to him, but it was hard trying to contain his smile as Phil got up from the bed and went to the small dresser outside the bathroom.

“Wouldn’t pass being able to tell people I had _The_ Dan Howell in my bed, now would I?" He looked over, eyebrows shot up with a smirky smile as he threw an old tee and shorts Dans way. "You're the first person I've really talked to in months. The owners don't speak English very well. I'm alone most of the times." He added as an afterthought, coming back over. “Bathroom’s over there. Can’t miss it.”

Dan changed, and they found themselves in bed – a good foot away from the other.

Phil turned his head first. "If we don't see each other again you promise not to tell?"

"I have no friends to tell, Phil." He stayed on his back.

"The authorities, the hou-"

"No. I promise. I won’t. Well- I think that's the beauty of a secret." Dan interrupted. He didn't really know where he was going with this, but he continued to talk, the moonlight luminous against his eyelids. "It's a connection with someone. You don't tell others and so it's special. It's unique and simple – I mean – look at us. Our lives are in each other's hands. I’ve told you more about my life tonight than anyone else in the world, I think." He was afraid of what Phil looked like right now, his face reddening from what sounded to him as the most pretentious remark he had probably ever made, chest tight from nervousness. There was a shuffling next to him. Dan kept his eyes closed as a whisper came from his right side.

"May I add another one?"

Breath. That was all Dan registered in the seconds after. Hot, sticky – there was nicotine on his lips before Dan could breathe out a soft yes, warmth and smoke and energy. It was chaste and it was beautiful, the brush against his cheek angelic as his eyes finally fluttered open; dark hair tickled his nose.

"As many as you can give."

___

“When can I see you again?” Dan eased back into his clothes, glad of the raincoat to protect him from the uncharacteristically sombre weather.

“You have my number.” Phil wavered on fixing the stray piece of hair that hid Dan’s eyes, his hand awkwardly up before he settled on brushing his own fringe back. “I’m free most of the day, but I work from 5 until around midnight every day. Most of the drug business is done through the restaurant though, so it’s not totally demanding of my time.” He handed him his coat. “I really like you, you know,” he added a little awkwardly. “I hope the drug thing doesn’t change things.”

Dan looked off to the side. “No it won’t, and yeah, me too,” he admitted. “I want to see you again, actually. I have a cast announcement at 6 and a party after, but tomorrow? Noon?” He hoped he wasn’t smothering his new friend, _potential love interest_ , Dan reminded himself. “I don’t know how we could meet, there’s bound to be someone following.”

“Does it matter?”

He wanted to get mad at Phil for suggesting it, but he could only shake his head. “It doesn’t work like that. I’d only be digging myself a bigger grave with more restrictions-”

“They can’t stop you from seeing me.”

“They can and they will.” Dan hugged his arms, feeling helpless. “Do you _want_ to get caught and put in jail?”

Phil blanked. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You’ll learn soon enough if you stay with me.”

“Here — Meet me at this bookstore.” Phil decided, taking a card from his dresser and handing it to Dan. “I go there when I can and the woman who owns the place likes me. She let’s me read without having to pay for anything. It’s small.”

“I’ll call you tonight. We should talk about disguises.”

Phil ignored him, finally brought his hand up and fixed Dan’s crinkled flyaway hairs, his fingers resting too long on Dan’s forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Dan nodded, and yet neither attempted to break eye contact. Phil’s eyes were a pleasant blue, round and stark next to his hair. He trailed the hand from Dan’s face down to his chin, tilting it down slightly so his lips parted.

“A secret before you go.”

___

They planned to meet at different times. Dan would come in first and pretend to browse, Phil closely following. He worried if they would only talk books, he didn’t know much about the things, and getting a shit education through it all made him feel a little uneasy. He knew he had it in him, but filming never much focused on it; the only education he was taught on the logistics of living off the rest of his fortune if he smart about it.

Dan sat alone in the corner, happy he was the only patron inside. From the corner of his eye he finally saw the door open, shifting to a bookshelf to look through. Water dripped off Phil’s green umbrella as he pretended not to see him, walking over to the teller.

Attempting to appear calm Dan ran his finger through the Classics, looking in vain for a novel he had actually read. He couldn’t focus much on the books though, an anticipatory hum causing him to tap a Wharton paperback on the bottom shelf with his fingernails. _What were they going to talk about? How did appropriate faked first meeting conversations usually go?_

“Joan!” Phil handed the elderly women a bag from the restaurant and leaned in for a hug. “How are you?”

“Oh dear what is this?” She took the bag and took the small take away boxes out. “Oh you sweetheart.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He placed a water bottle on the counter as well. “I’m going to go look now.” He turned to find Dan but stopped, whispering to the woman first. “The man that came in before is a friend of mine actually. He just moved here.”

“Oh that’s lovely! Let him pick any book he wants, any friend of Phil’s is a friend of mine.”

“Thanks Joan. He’ll appreciate that.”

Dan went back to the selection in front of him.

“Wharton then?” Phil appeared next to him, staring with him at the classic authors. “I find her views valiant but her writing listless.” He didn’t look at Dan as he picked up _The Age of Innocence_. “Tragic love story of a man caught between his duty to society and his true desires. 1921 Pulitzer Prize winner and a social commentary on the hypocrisy and irony of the New York high society scene of the time.” He flipped through the pages passively. “It’s a good read, though her writing is hard to swallow.”

Dan took the book from his hands. “Should I read it?”

“It gave me a good perspective about life. Wharton is so often cynical and her characters victims of fate.”

“You believe in fate?” He laughed, not wanting to get too deep but not knowing how else to hold the conversation. “Because I’ll be honest with you I know shit about literature.”

“That’s alright, it was going to be my major actually.” Thankfully Phil found the question just as out-there as Dan. “But to answer your question, no. We push on through our own merit, there’s nothing willing us to do anything except ourselves.”

“Then why do you have such profound opinions on Wharton?” He looked at Phil, who kneeled with a ducked head before finally setting glances at Dan. “From what you’ve told me she deals exclusively with fate.”

Phil went to reply but couldn't seem to find the right words. “Her characters annoy me.” He settled on. “Their lives would have worked if they had believed in themselves, I know it. You don’t need social acceptance like the idiots valued – _hell_ – you only need your own self-worth. That’s what her characters missed. Or if they figured it out she killed them or made them life the rest of their days away from their true love.” He handed the book back to Dan. “At her core she was a romantic. A cynical, witty romantic. Jaded. I don’t understand why she could write so much pain.”

Dan didn’t say it out loud, but thought that was precisely who they were for, _the jaded, cynical ones away from their lovers._

___

“Daniel, that table read was a nightmare.” Neil slammed the script down. “Why do you think we moved you to LA? So you could bask in the sun? In-n-Out?” He ran his hand through his hair, agitated. “You know they’re talking of recasting you.”

“I’ll do better.” Dan bit his lip, trying to keep his composure.

“They scheduled another one for tomorrow.” He paced. “I don’t think you’re grasping the severity of this. This whole movie is for your career. It’s a drama. It’s Oscar worthy. If you can just fucking do this,” his voice began to climb, “you can get into _anything_. You need to start taking this seriously.”

“I am.”

“We’ll see about that. Fix your hair,” he added.

“I will.”

“Now.” The script soared past his head. "Now!"

___

At three weeks after their first meeting, the two fell into a pattern of backways and secret identities, rotating locations whenever one felt watched. The tabloids hadn’t caught up yet, but it was fragile; uncertain. On this night they were at Dan’s house, and the irony of his wealth made the two of them laugh.

“How many do you have?”

“ _Shut up_. One, thank you very much. I leased it back when I found out I was going to have to move. Seemed quieter than an apartment. Plus, no nosy neighbors” It was 2 am, the amber light he had taken from back home on his nightstand setting the two aglow with gold. “I don’t think the paparazzi have found it yet. I once stayed a month in Prague for a shoot and they found it within a day because of the damn couple next to me wanting money for the photos.”

Phil moved next him, resting his arm across Dan’s waist. “Then we should stay here forever.”

He ran his hand through Phil’s now root apparent hair (he’d have to remind him dye it again), enjoying the warmth and closeness of another person. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“When is your contract up again?” He turned his head up.

“8 months.”

“Does that mean in 8 months we can go out together?”

“Dunno. Suppose so. My agent says that’s when it’s over.”

Phil trailed his finger absentmindedly on the small cut on Dan's forehead. “I don’t like how they treat you. This is awful.”

He sighed. “Neither do I, but I can’t break it. I literally can not.” It snuck up on him sometimes, the idea all of this was too good to be true. They wouldn’t last. He’d fuck up, or Phil would get tired of this hiding, tire of his shitty rich people problems and leave. They’d been together less than a month, and yet almost every day they had gotten to see each other. Alone in California, Phil was the only friend he could trust that wouldn’t use him. “It’s all kinda scary,” he said honestly.

“I’ll be here for you, alright? This secret thing is a two way deal you know.”

“The sweetest things.” Dan concluded, as he pushed down the creeping suspicion of their future.

“The sweetest things.”

He felt weak as he kissed Phil’s humid forehead. “Let’s sleep.”

___

Fitting for costumes was went more or less how they always did.

The _obviously foreign_ head designer.

The frazzled costumers.

The up-in-coming _hot_ wardrobe assistant.

Dan, despite his love of clothing, detested the amount of time it took to get fitted. _Needle here, needle there – what about some piping? No, the silhouette isn't matching – he simply looks frumpy._

The worst part was he couldn’t even get on his phone, his arms sore from lifting and legs stiff from standing all day. It wasn’t even a particularly interesting movie for costumes either, it being set in modern day with everything being worn not unusual to what he’d wear normally.

But it continued. He wondered if he could get away with stealing a tie for Phil, maybe even one of watches they had in the back. In the end he decided against it finally, he didn’t need that on the conscious of the crew for the rest of the shoot. Dan would just have to buy him those things on his own. _Blue would look really good on him…_

“What about blue, sir?”

“Oh nothing, Sorry.”

This was going to take some work.

___

“I shouldn’t be getting you into this.” Phil handed him his cigarette, the clouds furtive behind the skyline as he watched to see how Dan reacted.

As if on some invisible cue, Dan could only choke out a reaction. “Ergh – God it burns.”

“Here.” Phil took it back and showed him again. “You don’t eat the smoke, just take a breath with it.” He inhaled. “And let it out.”

“Give it here.” He took it back, this time taking in and releasing only a bit. “Damn.”

“Don’t get addicted on me, okay?”

“Think I already have."

“Great, now we’ll just have to add that to that to the grocery list.” Phil went to take another one out for himself but decided against it. “We should get back in the car. Who knows who else is here.” Dan obliged, noting how well in the past weeks Phil had shown his apt at hiding, learning the tricks of the trade and surprising him more often than not. _He was a fast learner_ , he decided. Now if it was for the best, time could only tell.

Dan had taken them to the opera, this production of _Tristan und Isolde_ decent compared to others he had seen. Though school may have failed him, the theatre still held a strong place in his heart – it was still where he learned most everything he knew and where his old friends still resided. It wasn’t acting that he detested- it was the celebrity of it all, the secrets he didn’t agree to. It saddened him. On stage were real actors, not whatever the fuck he was, forever bent over by producers and publicists and the press.

And in part from that, the two had disguised themselves as Dan had showed him – thick sunglasses, heavy cologne, and hair slicked back to match. It was a fancy affair, and he had leant Phil one of his suits. In the passenger seat of his Bentley it was hard to not want to rip it off, now that he looked over him.

“I can’t believe you bought the same Bentley you had back home just to drive around here.” The amount of money he had still seemed to shock Phil.

“I did not get the same car, this one is a convertible, _I’ll have you know._ I expected sun when I got here.” He abandoned the fantasy, starting the car.

“For as much as you hate acting, the money doesn't bother you?.”

“I can't really afford to think like that. Plus I didn’t do anything sneaky,” he justified. “You should have seen what Daniel Day-Lewis did last season, oh boy…” He dropped the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle. _Wow, it was finally getting used. He was a real high-classer now._

“I wonder why it’s so addicting,” Dan continued, distracting himself.

“Nicotine? It enters the blood-”

“Right, I forgot. You’re the nerd. Sorry the suit doesn’t fit you. We should have probably gotten you fitted for one. I can schedule you for that if you’d like.”

“Er- wouldn’t that kinda give away,” – he gestured between them – “us?”

Dan thought for a moment. “No, you’d go in by yourself. I’d just give you my credit card. Oh that could so work.” He grinned at the idea.

Phil rubbed at his wrists, the mother of pearl cufflinks weighing them down. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why?” They had stopped behind a line cars trying to leave as well, and Dan could now see the look of discomfort on Phil’s face. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

Phil took a deep breathe. “Dan, I can’t pay for any of this stuff. I think what I’m wearing is more than my monthly paycheck.”

“Oh.” There was a silence.

“It’s not bad, I mean I love-”

“Do you not like it all?” He chanced a glance at Phil, face fallen. “Because I’m sorry-”

“No no it’s just that – I don’t know why you’re doing this for me. It’s like you’re trying to buy me.”

Dan’s gaped, feeling his face start to flush.

“Wha- no Dan – it’s just that most people wouldn’t spend thousands of pounds - _dollars_ on someone they met a month ago. You don’t need to spend this money on me, I like you – for you – you know? When we met–” They hadn’t talked about it, but the limbo of their relationship shone holes in it’s fabric, apparent in days like today.

“I’m happy to do it you know.”

“I feel like I’m leeching off you.” He said finally. “I sent my brother twice the amount I usually do and I’m thankful beyond recognition but – it’s like we’re really together. For a long time.”

“Do you not want that?”

“I do. But don’t feel like you have to spend a fortune on me to keep me.”

“I can't believe I'm dating an actual angel."

"We're dating now?"

"You want that?"

"Yeah."

There was a thin silence.

"Alright.” The line was moving now and he drove up with it. “You want some McDonalds?”

Phil laughed, seeming to instantly lighten the mood. “Never in a million years would I think I’d be going drive through in a £250k car.”

“Is that a yes?”

“ _God yes._ ”

___

And so filming began.

It didn’t sink into him until day 5 that he was a lead. He couldn’t really talk to anyone “below” him – all of them blushing before they ran away to the bathroom (even the guys), or smiling until it hurt – scared to disagree with him on even their favorite Starbucks drink. Hollywood was another beast, at least in London he could talk to someone without much trouble. It seemed rougher, rawer, LA a people pleaser. He didn’t want to think about how he’d be coping if he didn’t have Phil to depend on, to be honest. Jennifer, his co-star, love interest's sister was engaged (and also the one he discovered wore all that lily perfume, god help her), and though she talked to him whenever on break, he knew she’d rather be on her phone helping plan.

“You look tired.” Phil was at his house again, already in pjs and waiting for him come home. He got there at midnight most nights. Dan looked at the clock on the microwave out of curiosity: It was 12:53 am.

His place was a three story condensed mess. The living room downstairs, the kitchen at ground level, and the bedroom up a two stair trek.

“Feel tired. Hungry too.” Dan headed to the kitchen. “The caterers bailed on us today.”

“I can make you a quesadilla if you like. Live that ‘SoCal’ dream,” he offered, gently taking the jacket off of Dan’s frame from behind him.

“That’d be really nice actually. You making me food is kinda our thing, huh?”

Phil finished unzipping it and left it on the counter, softly kissing down his neck. “Mhmm.” His hands wrapped around Dan, leaning over to meet his lips.

“You taste like cinnamon gum.”

Dan tilted his head to allow Phil’s to rest against his neck. “I’ve had to survive on it all day.”

Phil groaned. “One melted cheese tortilla sandwich coming right up. You’re not going hungry on my watch.”  

Dan could only laugh, the clarion one of endearment. “You’re such a dork.”

“A well fed dork,” he corrected.

“Make my food I want to go to bed.”

“ _Yes_ , Mr. Movie Star.”

“I will literally strangle you.”

“Love you too.”

“Goodnight.” Dan turned to walk out.

“The chef is not done yet.”

“Well the chef is just going to have to do deliveries. Good night.”

___

It took a full 3 months before Dan could show Phil his movies.

“They’re terrible _oh my god_ I don’t think you realize how bad they are.” Dan paced the living room. “It’s so cringe you will _literally_ never look at me the same way.”  


Phil sat at the sofa, starting to curl into his blanket. “Ple-ase?”

“You’ve probably already looked them up.” He stopped to look at Phil. “ _Ohmygod_ you have!”

He had given himself away, trying to hide his smirking face under the blanket. It fell to reveal an award winning smile. “Only the trailers!”

“I can’t believe you!” Dan threw his arms up in defeat. “Fuck it, you’re watching _Girls Night In_.”

“Ooh I wanted to see that one! Wait-” he stopped. “Why does that sound like some lesbian porno?”

He scoffed, finding the DVD on the shelf. “You’ll be disappointed. Just me and my atrocious hair in this one, I’m supposed to be some skater or whatever.”

The film had been on for less than 10 minutes when Phil interrupted. “Where are you?”

Dan laughed, gesturing at a curly blonde writing in her diary. “You mean you _don’t_ care about Savannah’s menstrual cycle?”

“This is awful. Fast forward to your parts.”

“No can do.” He took the remote from the coffee table and hid it behind his back. “You wouldn’t understand the plight of poor Henry Woodworth then.”

“Is that your name in this?”

“I played a little Lord one time. Cumbersnoodles abound. That was the Prague shoot. Real sad ending.”

“Oh you looked sweet in that poster. How old were you? 13?” He brought the blanket up again.

“I’m never letting you on my laptop again _jesus christ_ Phil. I much preferred when you had no internet access.” He dramatically stole the blanket back from Phil.

He tugged it back. “You’re secretly happy.”

“This is not a time to debate the connotations of our secrets – now watch.” With one last grab he attempted to jerk the fuzzy black sheet, but only succeeded in knocking his glass over.

“I’m testing you on this after.”

“Good thing I only got into Cambridge.”

Dan could only groan.

___

In the fourth month, July came with an arid heat. Filming had finished the week before and Dan was finally able to enjoy his first free week in months.

“You should have gone to one of the Fourth of July parties you were invited to. This is so dull.”

“And leave you to your sad waitering? Wasn’t going to happen.”

The two were sitting crossed legged on Dan’s roof, a bottle of merlot and two glasses between them. The view from the top was incredible, a sliver of the Hollywood sign behind them and the rest of LA proper in front of them. He figured he could indulge in this somewhat public display of their relationship, the sun already setting and night fast approaching. The golden rays of it shone on the tiny reflections of the buildings below them, orange and glaring. He poured the already uncorked wine into each of their glasses, handing Phil’s to him first.

“To our first Fourth of July,” Phil raised his glass.

“And hopefully the last,” Dan added.

They drank quietly, watching as the sun finally gave it’s last goodbye for the day. Already there were a few fireworks in the distance, small blips on the circuit board of the city.

“Are you really leaving when your movie is released?” He brought his glass down, resolute on the violet windows in the valley.

Dan tensed. He hadn’t thought through what he said. “I suppose that’s the plan.”

“Should I just pretend I never heard that and continue whatever we have or should I start looking at other people.”

“Phil, I didn’t mean it like that –  It’s _just_ –  I just want to quit this acting thing and live a quieter life, preferably in England.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Do you want that?”

“To answer my question?”

“No to move back to England.”

Phil stayed quiet, the wine glass close in his hands. “When I started dealing there I got involved with a lot of bad people. I’d have to be really subtle about it. I couldn’t live back with my family.” There was a long pause. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you could move back with me.”

Phil’s eyes widened, a small smile playing at them as if unsure if it was allowed out. “Really?”

“You’d live on your own if you want. I - I just want you to be around me, that’s all. It’ll be better than whatever the fuck _this_ is.”

“Look –” Phil pointed in front of him to their right, towards the ocean. “Did you see that? There was some I swear.”

“Fireworks?”

“What else?”

“Oh shut up. I’m trying to invite you to live me-”

“There did you see it!?”

“I’m literally looking in front of me how could I have mi-”

“It was like 5 colors!”

“I hate you,” Dan said, though without any malice. He drank the last of his wine and poured another glass, moving over to lean on Phil’s shoulder.

“You love me.” He wrapped his free arm around Dan and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “And I’m happy you know.”

“I know. But you can be such a _dork_ someti-.”

“ _Ohh_ did you see that one it was purple!”

___  


It was in the fifth month during post-production that Dan started acting out.

He was with Neil and the rest of the press agency going over the marketing tactics and _more_ rules now that he was in the public eye, the “rising star from overseas” already coined and in the bag.

“Don’t screw this up Daniel. We have it set up so the celebrity news shows should start referring to you as thus and the image we’re going to shoot for is – _suave_. A young James Bond. You know, we should get you a girlfriend.” Neil added, running his hands down his chin contemplatively. “She’d have to British. What do you think?” He turned to the men next to him.

“Could work… A blonde?”

“I was thinking the same thing. We can make some calls. Okay break time everyone. Reconvene in 15.” They left, leaving him with Jennifer.

And Dan felt sick. _This was not happening._

“Oh Dan.” Jen got up from her seat and went over to him, running her hand over his back. “This is awful what they’re doing to you. I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing will come of it. Neil talks a big game.” He didn’t believe a word he was saying, and he didn’t think she did either. Neil, he learned, had a reputation that preceded him, universally disliked in Hollywood. Even Jennifer shuddered when he told her who he was to him.

“Shh… It’s just for until the end of the movie. 5 months max. I’m sure she’ll be lovely.”

“It won’t happen.”

“But if it does…” She continued, still softly rubbing his back. “My friend went through one of these. Most of the time you only have to be around them for carpet events. You can completely ignore them if you want, yeah? I’m actually dating my pilates instructor right now, no one knows. We just gotta hope these tables aren’t bugged now.”

Dan gave a shake laugh. “Yeah, I’m seeing someone right now too. Waiter at a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant.”

“You’re joking.” She laughed with him, taking her hand off his back. Her concern loosened him, and her frankness made him trust her even more.

“No, he’s pretty great. I should text him actually, have him get dinner ready.”

“You do that. I’m texting Rob to do the same. This has taken _too_ long.”

She was remarkably cool with it all. His heart raced, starting to regret it, but he pushed it aside, texting Phil.

 _To Phil:_ can you go get me me starbucks im at a break this meeting is horrendous

 _To Dan:_ when you get back?

 _To Phil:_ no now

 _To Dan:_ you want me to bring you starbucks at the offices.. .?

 _To Phil:_ yes please i dont care say i contacted you via craigslist or something youre the smart one make some story up

 _To Dan:_ fine what do you want

Dan smiled.

 _To Phil:_ venti salted caramel frappuccino

 _To Dan:_ jesus christ you’re paying me back later

 _To Phil:_ tenfold

The managers came back in.

“Okay, here’s the idea.” Neil waited for everyone to settle back down again, smiling with clasped hands. ”We want you and Jennifer to get together.” He waited for someone to react, but no one did. “It’ll be great publicity for the movie.”

No.

“We’ll have to get contracts written up but – what do you two think? The two stars? It makes perfect sense. Publicity is willing to pay a lot.”

Neither of them spoke, both looking at the table as if an escape plan was etched onto it.

“That’s fine Neil. As long as it doesn’t last longer than the movie release I’m sure Dan will be fine with it, right Dan?”

He couldn’t speak. “Um yeah. Fine”

“Perfect. Let’s get to our meeting.”

They went back to the plans ahead, It taking about an hour until Dan finally got his drink.

“This is… for Daniel?” Estelle from reception peeked in, holding the container with napkins.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware we had a delivery service.” Neil got up from the head of the table and took the cup, handing it to Dan. “Why does it say Pippa on this?”

Dan blanked. Of course Phil couldn’t just put _his_ name on it, no it _had_ to be some feminine alias. “It’s the name of the girl who gets my drinks.”

“Sir, a man brought it.” Estelle clung to the wall, glittering pink lipstick gluing her lips shut in a peculiar modern amalgamation of austerity.

“Did he?” He turned back to Dan.

“That’s just her fill in-”

“He’d have to say Pippa to the clerk to get discounts.” Jennifer chimed in. ”Same with my assistant. It’s a real bother.”

 _Thank every god above for Jen._ He wanted to drink some to avoid their eyes, but decided against it, knowing his nerves would run through the plastic.

“I see,” he said, not convinced. “Let’s get back to our meeting. Daniel, try to pay attention. Perhaps caffeine was a wise choice.”

___

It took 2 weeks for the tabloids to get them after that.  


All the headlines centered on the elusive black haired boy corrupting him, shaky photos taken of the two of in public and hyperbolic assumptions of what _exactly_ Dan wanted from this. He had to admit the American tabloids were saints compared to what he got back in the UK, though he didn’t feel much up to imagining how they were taking the coverage.

_“He was raised perfectly – no divorce – but now that we look into it – well.”_

_“He should date that Jennifer! They’d have such cute children.”_

_“I just want to know who this guy is, that’s all. We want the best for our sweet Daniel.”_  

“Maybe that was a little dumb,” Dan decided, scrolling through the news on him. “A lot of girls don’t like it though.”

“As long as I don’t get thrown in jail I’m fine with it.”

He shut his laptop. _Shit_ , he had almost forgotten about that. Phil never talked about it, never brought any of inevitable stress up when they were together. He wondered if there was any to begin with, or if Phil could just miraculously keep it all in. He didn’t want to admit how intrigued he was with his double life, but didn’t think it’d be much appreciated trying to peer into something he stayed so silent on. “I think you should stop selling.”

“I wish I could.” He put the rice on the table, moving Dan’s laptop off the dining room table to the counter. 

Dan helped finish set the table. They ate at around 4 now, so Phil could get back to the restaurant and work until the end of his shift. 

“You can. I want to pay for your brother.”

Phil straightened. “You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah I just think it’s really dangerous and you shouldn’t have to do it.” He avoided looking at him, face a tad bit flush as he straightened his fork.

“It’s going to take time… Are you serious?” he said, in breathy disbelief.

“Yes.” Dan didn’t mention that it really had a lot to do with not wanting to lose him, be that by some stupid gang fight or jail or _whatever_. “C’mon let’s eat.”

“I don’t know what to say.”  


“You don’t have to say anything.” He poured water into each of their glasses. “I want to do it.”  


___

Somehow, Dan was able to make dinner even heavier.

“Um- well I got some paperwork today.” He didn’t know how else to get around this, besides maybe hiding it from him longer. The first press junket was in a week, and he decided he’d just be just be digging himself a bigger hole if he waited longer. “Interesting stuff.”

“What is it?”

“You know Jen?”

“Yeah.”

“I have to pretend to date her.”

“What?”

Dan couldn’t look him, he was ashamed of the whole situation, ashamed that he had to _fake_ things once again. “Neil said it would help with marketing.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish.” He took his eyes from his plate to look at Phil, who sat stock still.

“You can’t get out of it?”

“No. She’s dating her pilates instructor, so like, we wouldn’t end up together or anything – if you were worried.”

Phil laughed. “No, I’m not worried that’d you’d leave me. Are you kidding? You wouldn’t last a day without my food.”

He shook his head, letting out a small laugh as well. “Only you’d make a joke out of this.”

“S’my job. I love you.”

“Love you.” There was a small pause. “I don’t deserve you.”

“We don’t deserve any of this.”

He thought Phil would add some spiel on how brave he was, good luck on the interviews and how he’d watch everyone, but was glad when nothing came. What Phil had said was enough. He’d have enough of thinking of Hollywood. He just wanted to act normally for once. 

Everything they had right now was enough. Being able to spend his days with Phil and eat together and watch movies together, that was _enough_. 

Now all Dan had to ask himself was if he could stand with just that.

___

“Interview time!” Jennifer came around to where he was getting his makeup done, sitting next to the artist. “Nervous? Got your points from Neil?”

“Unfortunately.” The last of the powder was being applied to his face. Even after the amount of hours he sat in those chairs it still tickled him like hell.

“You’ll be fine. Rob wishes you luck.”

The artist stepped aside. “Think I’m done. I’ll let you two talk.” She winked, cleaning up her boxes before leaving.

“Disgusting.”

Jennifer straightened her hair in the mirror, continuing the conversation. “Do people already think we’re together? Oh god we better stop mentioning who we’re really with.”

“On the topic of our significant other, me and–” he stopped, not knowing how to continue. “–we’d like for you two to come over for dinner. Why does that sound so awkward?”

“Call them Pippa.” She turned, smiling. “Worked last time. Make’m your sister.”

“Careful or they’ll think some incest shit is going on. Can’t have that.”

“Can’t have much of anything.” Her voice was low. “I’ll have to ask Rob but I’m sure he’ll love it. We don’t get invited to many places where he can go as well. I think we’re waiting until the movie is over to go public with it. It wont be a big deal because he’s not a star but it’ll still be a lot of stress on him”

“You think?” Dan hadn’t thought of all of that. _How could he have forgotten?_

“Oh yeah. Granted he isn't a she, so no fashion police, but god forbid we have kids and they just feel the need to rate how “dad material” he is. Whatever the fuck that means.”

He could only stay silent. “Yeah.”

“Sounds like they’re ready to go. You ready?”

“Think so.”

“Let’s get this done with then.”

_“Yes, honey.”_

“Stop. I’m going to gag.”

“Can’t have that.”

“Can it Howell.”

___

Though Phil stayed almost every day at Dan’s house, it took 6 months until it started to become _theirs_.

“How’d you like to live with me?” Dan was driving themselves back from dinner, the most extravagant 6 months together celebration Phil had been privy to.

“I sorta already do, Dan.”

“But like- really. You could keep some of your stuff there because we’ll probably use it, but the rest of the stuff?” He turned to Phil. “We have the room.”

“I don’t exactly have much stuff.” It was late out, the tinted windows soaking the city lights in a coal wash, the color only visible from the windshield. “Why?”

“I mean it would just kind of be nice.” He turned down the alley that led to his apartment. “Like, I don’t know, to be able to think _yeah I live with you._ ”

“Yeah.” There’s a calm silence. “I just don’t want to be in a situation where I feel like I have to owe you something in return for like – being some benefactor or something,” he said honestly. He couldn’t imagine if something happened to them, and he was forced to restart, go home with nothing.

“I see you as my equal, you know.”

“It’s kinda hard when I feel I depend on you for everything.”

He didn’t want to argue. “Just think about it?”  
  


“Yeah - no I will. Thank you. I love you. It’s been a wild half year.” He laughed.

“And to many more.”

___

7 months brought with it the incongruousness of seeing himself on a poster.

“That’s your face. It’s on a billboard. What.” Phil stared up at the image, huge and projected over Beverly Boulevard while at the red light. “Dan, do you _see_ this?”

“Only was at the bloody photo shoot.” He gazed at it with Phil, slightly perturbed at how high definition the photo was. You could count the pores if you wanted. “Oh and look how lovely Jen looks.”

“But you’re so beautiful!” Phil sat on his knees, a seatbelt long since abandoned. “Let’s find another one, yeah?”

The light turned and Dan was forced to continue down the road. “We should go eat.”

“You and your food. It’s always food with you, isn't it?

“If we get back fast enough I can get us into the Polo Lounge for dinner.” He looked at Phil, waiting for a reaction.

His face positively shone.

“Well, get on with it.”

Dan never saw him as a charity case, but seeing Phil so distanced from his ratted white tees, he couldn't but be a little proud inside. He was still the Phil after all of this – _albeit one in a Cellini Rolex_ , he noted giggling.

And for a little while, Dan didn't think things would change that much.

___

“We’re starting to get the last offers from the designers. The dresses are huge. It’s not even the Academy Awards. It’s just a premiere. Is this movie _really_ that big?” The two were at Jen’s place, soft bossa nova completing the orange living room. “You think I should go with a pink?” She nodded at Dan.

“I think that would suit your skin color, yeah. I think I’m going for a plain suit. It’s kinda casual anyways.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m overthinking it, huh?”

“You want to look good, no harm there.” Dan placed his wine glass on the coffee table and stood. “We should be going though, it’s near midnight.” He turned to help Phil up. “Thank you for dinner and everything. It was wonderful.”

Jennifer led them out, Rob behind her looking a little awkward.

“Jen’s so nice.”

Dan didn’t respond until they were well down the condo’s corridor, too tired to do much but walk. The premiere was around the corner and Neil was yelling even more lately, nothing right and everything needed to be polished. _More_ interview lines learned and _more_ press shoots – he was exhausted. Today was his last free day to relax until after the event. Stress seemed to grow within him nowadays.

“Yeah.” He snuck his hand out of his pocket and let it brush the back of Phil’s, trying to calm himself down a bit. “I don’t feel much up to driving home. We could just stay at that motel down the street, I don’t even give a fuck anymore.” The tawny lighting made him even sleepier, cozy and warm.

Phil finally took his hand. “I’ll drive. You can sleep in the back.”

Dan wondered why he held on, he could only count a handful of times he did in public. He didn’t question it though, and they made their way to the car with Dan dragging behind. The parking structure’s light assaulted his eyes, paper-white and blinding. Dan did his best to keep them shut, holding onto Phil’s hand as a guide.

“There you go.” Phil opened the back door for him. He took a coat from one of their numerous disguises from the back and draped it over Dan’s half asleep body, positioning it so the sleeves didn't hit in his face. “All cozy?”

“Mhm.”

He kissed Dan’s cheek.

“Let’s get home.”

He didn’t know if Dan heard.

___

And so it was at dinner 8 months in when Phil finally gave his decision.

“So I’m okay with it.”

Dan brought his fork down, confused. “What?”

“I’ll move some of my stuff in here.”

“You’ll move in with me?” He couldn’t really believe what he was hearing, but stayed uncertain, not feeling up to self ridicule tonight. Tomorrow was the premiere. He couldn’t afford to be emotionally compromised when a thousand cameras would figure it out the next day.

“I’ve thought about it, and yeah. I think it’ll be okay.” Phil leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to keep my place though. Just in case.”

There was an awkward silence, the intensity of Phil’s eye contact burning into Dan. “I get it.”

“Thanks. That means a lot, you know? But hopefully I’ll never have to live there permanently again… I should probably tell my family about the address change, huh?”

“Secrets, Phil. After the contract, please.” It sounded like a whine, but Dan was just starting to regret everything that had leaked in the past few months.

“Secrets,” he agreed, nodding his head.

___

“I’ve been looking at places back home. My London flat is kind of too posh and urban. Don’t really want to be back in that so soon.”

They sat next each other on the sofa, Dan scrolling through realtors and listings and trying to map out their future. And so far, that future included either a two bedroom flat next to a hospital ( _oh god no ambulances all day no thank you_ ) or a rolling countryside estate at auction with 20 years of disrepair ( _think it’s haunted?_ ).

They weren't having much luck.

“We’ll keep looking. We can just stay at my place temporarily if it comes down to it. Still want a proper house though.”

“Same.” The closer they got to Dan's contract date ending the more Phil seemed okay with relinquishing the stronghold of the possibility of the two living seperate. He never used his old apartment anymore, and even if he didn't tell Dan, it was an unspoken agreement that _that's just how things would work out_. They'd move back to England and live together, Dan would start his fashion blog and Phil would get odd jobs tutoring English. It'd be a quiet thing.

Phil leaned his head on his shoulder. “Better get to bed. You’re going to be busy tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me, ugh.”

“Be-ed.” He started to tickle Dan off the couch.

“When I asked you to move in with me I did not sign up for this abuse.”

“Should have put that on the roommate application form wh-”

Dan stood, trying to contain his laugh. “Goodnight.”

___

The days are counted down until the contract is done.

_1 month. 25 days now. Only 2 weeks. This is it. 12 days to go. C’mon._

The weeks crawl into their graves, dying into newborn days. The number 9 plays on their lips again, but it’s saccharine and sticky this time, the four letter word breaking the contact from his chest for a fraction of a second. 8 is _lonely_ , Dan is gone all night for a meeting on television interviews, but 7 makes up for it. 7 is _subtle_ , warm and sensual, and they can’t help cry – because it’s astounding – _they are so in love_. 6 meanwhile plays out like it’s brother – _sin_ , and Dan doesn’t want much to think about fixing the bathroom sink with the date so close. 5 makes the bottom lip white with pressure and they revel in it, fingers press like the word and sting like it’s bite, marks pierce their lips and 5 is all they feel after. 4 is whispered – _quiet_ – they look at each other and finalise their plans, the only sound that night from the computer.

Now day 3, that number is thick. Phil gets home from work a little late, it wasn’t his fault but there was a lot to clean up, and he is surprised when he sees Dan crying at their cluttered dining room table, still in pajamas from the night previous and a paper thrown to his face.

“Read it.”

It’s a letter, unsigned and without postage, typed with Times New Roman.

**We got you**

It glares through the filmy pulp, and Dan can only feel that the game is almost up, that the run was good– _It was really just a matter of time. Idiot._

“Who is this?” Phil can feel himself start to lose balance, he is dizzy as he turns the paper over, looking for some kind of clue.

“I don’t know it was just in the mail. Do you think it could be Jen? Oh God-”

“No. Did you check the cameras?”

“Just the postman.” Dan leans his hand on his mouth, moving it until his forehead is underneath his sweating palm. He wrings his head in his hands, knuckles bloodless as they grip his hair “I don’t know how they did it. I’ll text her. If it wasn’t her she’ll know what to do.”

“We only have 3 days left. It’s fine.”

“No, _it is not_.” He articulates each word with annoyance. “You need to get rid of _whatever the fuck_ you have still. I can’t believe we’re still having this conversation.”

“I’m trying.”

“I can’t lose you.” Dan looks up, eyes bloodshot and vulnerable, his lower lip trembling.

Phil can only look away. “I’m almost done I just have one last person to talk to. 3 days.” He reminds him.

“3 days” Dan repeats, sniffling at the hollow attempt at reassurance.

2 is _airy_ , _anxious_ ; Dan can’t seem to focus on anything while he’s alone and the date so close, and he wonders if anything will actually change other than being able to be out together – if in 5 years he will be forgotten and live in peace. He lays on the lily white duvet and stares up, holding the cool material between his fingers and listening to the torrential downfall outside. _Maybe things will be all right_. He can’t shake the feeling it will all just go wrong.

And like that, the last day is upon them.

___

“I thought it’d be nice to spend the night at your place,” Dan walked down the foggy alley with Phil beside him. "Reminds me of when we met."

Phil held his hand for a fraction of a second before making eye contact, glowing. "Me too. We'll get out of this. I know it." The fog was layering them into obscurity, and the quiet darkness of the alley inspired the chances they took. Hand holding, smiling, things Dan saw that night 9 months ago on the tips of his fingerprints–

Dan couldn’t explain why he did it.

He turned to Phil, kissing him in fully in the dead of the alley, the smell of stale beer surrounding them a dirty contrast to the Veuve Clicquot in their throats now. Hand holding was benign enough, but he had never kissed him outside like this. If the paparazzi saw? _Hell, one more day._ There wasn’t anything stopping them printing the story, it would save a lot of cringey daytime interviews, now that he thought about it. 

But he was so beyond caring what others thought, and he wanted to cry. _Is this what it’s like to be free?_  


“No- Dan we can’t.” Phil denied deepening it, instead moving so that their foreheads touched.

“We can.” Dan played with the onyx buttons on Phil’s shirt, focusing on the shine from the neon above them.

Phil pulled away reluctantly. “We shouldn’t.”

“But I think we should.” The sweet smell of intoxication burned on them. Dan didn’t give a shit anymore, closing the distance between them once more with a soft kiss; barely touching his lips. It was thrilling.

“Yeah- shit-” He moved forward, finally returning the pressure. Dangerously, he snaked his fingers up his neck, feeling Dan’s voice turn guttural. “We should get back, huh?”

“Mmm”

___

Inside it was warm, a few customers babbled in Chinese and Dan saw the owners, who he had grown accustomed to making them breakfast despite the major language gap. He smiled at them and went up the rickety stairs, taking his key and letting himself into Phil's place.

In truth, the place had probably been empty of a sleeper for 3 weeks. It was mainly kept for ease at this point as it was closer to their favorite spots, and after a long night neither much cared the thread count of a fitted sheet.

"Not too dusty." Phil moved his hand across his nightstand. "Could do with a clean though.” He nodded at Dan. “Want to hand me the champagne?"

Dan shrugged his jacket off. "I'm not fucking you with all those people downstairs."

"Who ever mentioned fucking?"

Dan scrunched his face, his voice slightly lowered. "Don’t play innocent. I did the night I met you. You did 5 minutes ago in that shit alley. Now light me." He had a cigarette balanced between his lips as he unlaced his shoes.

Phil took out his lighter and set the tip aflame, watching the paper electrify before stealing it for his own mouth.

"Ay– what was that for?" He laughed before attempting to bat the cigarette back.

Phil ignored him, walking back to Dan and running a finger up the seam of his jeans before kissing him on lips that still held parted.

"Stop, we shouldn’t – not until they go to bed."

_Oh, how the tables had turned._

"So what to do until then?" He smiled coyly at Dan, his cigarette arm leaning lazily on his other hand, propping up the smoke like a 1940s noir temptress.  

"You can start by giving me one of those."

Phil only blew smoke in Dan’s direction. “You can start by having some manners.”

“I wasn’t the one that got my cigarette stolen from my mouth-”

“Manners,” Phil said it with force, leaning on the wall. “Or do I have to teach you some?”

He ignored him. “Do you have any more of those pills?" Dan continued his look down.

"The Adderall?" Phil straightened, whatever lust that had been in his voice abating.

"Don't lie."

"Yeah. Just a hundred pounds worth though. Thought I'd save some in case."

_Two could play at this game-_

"Give me some."

Phil ashed the cigarette, keeping eye contact. "You’re joking."

Dan didn’t know how to respond. He settled on steady eye contact. "No, we still have a few hours to kill until your tenants go to bed and I'm bored out of my fucking brains. Please tell me they're here."

"Yeah, they're in my dresser," he said skeptically, getting up and looking at Dan warily. "Have you ever been high on this stuff?"

"Once. I told you I bought from people like you the night we met."

“Oh yeah.” He smiled. “I mean – it's pretty great." He took a bag from behind a sweater. "You sure? I’ll help you through it, if you want.”

 _And at this_ , Dan took his chance.

He got up and ran to grab the almost visible cigarette container from Phil’s suit pocket, he had one hand out–

It was caught in Phil’s viceroy grip almost instantaneously.

"Oi. Manners.”

___

“Jesus christ, you’re gonna make me hard before I’ve even had a chance at the fucking champagne. Give it here.” The Adderall hadn’t taken effect yet, and Phil sat next to him, whispering in his ear. The bottle was already ¾ gone from dinner, but still held onto its chill.

He pulled away. “We don’t seem to have glasses.” He took the leftover bottle and drank straight from it, some of the amber liquid slipping down his neck. “Oops.” The bottle popped from the released pressure from his lips.

“Oh you snake give it here.” He made hands at it but Phil pulled it away easily.

“You’re going to have to learn I’m the one in charge around here.”

“Oh really?” The sheets messed as Dan padded his way back to him, feeling the soft inlets of Phil’s stomach through his suit.  “Because If I remember correctly I’m the millionaire who made you.” He started to feel a little more alert now, his chest juddering from beneath his shirt as his breathing began to fasten.

“Perhaps.” Phil smiled, an idea suddenly coming to him. 

With one hand starting at Dan’s belt and the other gripping the green bottle, he cautiously tipped the contents into his open mouth. “But can you taste me on it yet?”

It came at him Dan as effervescent rotations, a sea of alcohol tossed by a hurricane, the champagne rolling down his throat in tides. He endeavored to drink as much as he could, but the excess champagne ran onto the sheets like molten gold – inevitably – burning his throat and soaking his shirt through. He felt like choking from the lack of air, his moans stifled from the liquid.

“ _Oh-_ ” His mouth emanated with wet as the bottle drained. “Guess I’ll have to take this off.” He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, the whole scene playing out as some bizarre high-end fantasy. His drunken state wasn’t helping.

“What happened to waiting until they left?” Phil was enjoying this, he hadn’t taken as much as Dan to keep things safe, but it was immensely gratifying seeing his focus-high be on him. “Don’t you care about decency?”

It was a poor joke.

“Not in the slightest.”

Through this lens, Dan decided, amphetamines were a blessing. He could do anything – there was only one thing in his vision – _Phil_ – and he was excited, aroused, a focus so strong it made him dizzy.

“Or will you help me?” He dragged Phil up with him, kissing him slowly and starting to unbuttoning his white dress shirt. The empty bottle plunged to the floor.

“I’ve got it.” His gravelled voice was back, and he took Dan’s hands from his collar and held tight, forcing them down onto to the bed as he brought himself above him. “Don’t lift a finger.”

Dan could only pretend to struggle against the hold above his head; his breath loud and broken with high moans. He attempted to bring his body up to Phil’s, his neck as hungry as his cock, squirming as he finally succeeded. Phil finished the last button with his teeth, sucking the last of champagne from his shirt.

“ _Ah_ -” Dan tried to stay under his touch, his hips high as he suddenly felt Phil’s hand put the muchappreciated pressure on the confines of his pants, releasing Dan’s wrists from above him. He didn’t know where to put them anymore, settling them on pulling through his hair.

“I could get you off now.” He trailed his lips along Dan’s bare chest, still wet from the champagne. “Or I could just wait and see how long it takes you to beg for it.” 

“L-Let me kiss you a longer.” He didn’t want to finish _this_ fast, but the drugs seemed to do obscene things to him, one moment blurring to the next. The second the pressure to his cock subsided his hands grabbed for Phil’s buttoned collar; a vain attempt to feel it back again.

Phil did his best to stay as collected as he could for long as he could as well – for Dan’s sake at least. He didn’t want to lose him in his high, though the impetuousness Dan now moved with only brought only an added thrill to both of theirs. Fingers scratched against the fields of his neck until vermillion grew cross-hatched, digging patches even rougher until it was a velvet brocade. Dan’s hands tugged at his hair, tangling it as his fingernails scraped against his scalp. The newly exposed area of his neck lay open for him now, and he sucked at it eagerly, the soft white of Phil’s skin moving numbly beneath him as he scraped his teeth along it. He threw the dress shirt askew to the bottle.

“There’s that out of the way.”

His lips trailed back up to Phil’s as he went at his belt, adoring in the tiny moans that issued from them. 

“Kiss me harder damn it.” He abandoned Phil’s lips to edge them along his stubbled jaw again, applying the same pressure he did to his lips in agitation and anticipation, the smell of expensive cologne cocooning around them both.

“I didn’t get to give my lesson on manners did I?” Phil breathed out, and Dan could only smile with a shaky breath, still slightly annoyed at his ability to remain calmer than him.

_God, he really couldn’t go on much longer._

“Because that’s not a way to keep your man.”

“Already got him.” He panted quickly, running his finger across Phil’s bottom lip, licking his own with closed eyes. “And I think if you don’t fuck me in the next ten seconds I’m going to scream.” Dan’s face flushed, but he ignored it.

"Maybe I should let you suffer then.”

“P-please don’t.”

“What happened to you fucking me?"

Dan could only breathe in shallow thrums, trying to slow himself down but failing miserably. "I overestimated my abilities." His voice shook with impatient deference.

"That’s alright." He got up slowly, easing Dan's body off his. "C'mon. There you go." The extent of the drug on his psyche surprised Phil, in no time Dan's body moulding beneath him, submitting to the movements of his lips and groaning as Phil slowly drew his tongue down his neck one last time. He wondered if the high was wearing down already, and it scared him slightly – but went on with it anyways, careful to make sure Dan was fine with it whenever he could.

"Are you sure?" He asked again.

"Yes _god_ get on with it," Dan panted.

"Manners?"

Dan attempted to smile with closed eyes. " _Teach me you fucker_.”

That was enough for him. Phil shoved him one last time into the saturated champagne sheets, Dan’s mouth caught with the red of his sheets, arching his back at Phil’s brazen fingernails like they were laced with electricity.

“Or I might just tell your secrets..."

And like their first night together, the nicotine prevailed.

___

Their breath was hot and clouded the solitary window, the fog outside shrouding them in a veil of cool mist. Steam escaped their mouths, it stuck and collided to the glass. The temperature difference was what struck him, as Dan ran his finger through the thin fissures of moisture they had made on the pane.

_I love you_

He surrounded the message with a small heart.

Phil leaned over and drew two stick figures next to it. “There’s us.” He continued with a tree, a crude fountain and a tall city building. “And we can go places soon. Anywhere you want.”

“I’d like to go to Tokyo one day.” Dan wiped the wet from his finger on Phil’s cheek.

“That’d be nice.”

He smiled lazily. “Then it’s deal.”

“That’d be _so_ cool.” Phil repeated, thinking about it now.“We’d have to get a hotel room that overlooks all the city and I could-”

“Fuck me as great as you did tonight.” Dan could only laugh childishly.

“I was going to say kiss, but I’m not exactly opposed to that either.” He pushed his face into Dan’s shoulder, the cologne fading. “No one would know you in Japan. Little lonely, innit?”

The irony of the joke made him chuckle. “ _The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend_.” He leaned his flushed cheek to the window, the cool relief stinging as his high wore off.

“You read it.” Phil brought his chin up. The Age of Innocence lay under laundry back at their apartment, unfinished.

“I’m not done yet.” He admitted. “It’s hard knowing the ending.”

“They chose that ending. You chose _your_ ending.” He reminded him, brushing at the slicked curls on Dan’s forehead.

Jitters coursed through his body like electricity, a side effect of the high, Phil had told him. “I can’t really believe it until I live it.” He looked at the clock. 3:47 am. He stole one last kiss before attempting to doze to sleep.

“You want a secret?” Phil drew his lips away, breath hitched.

“Every single one.”

“I want to be with you forever.”

___

Dan woke as the sky was just beginning to lighten, the clouds brightening in slow degrees. He had to be up at 6, and his eyes burned from the heavy hangover. The alarm hadn’t woken up Phil and he took it as a blessing, glad he could sleep a little longer. Angelic in nature as he was in physique, the sheets draped around him in the perfect paragon of neoclassicism  – though Dan wouldn’t have known the name for it. To him, he was simply _Phil_ , wrapped like a painting, the light spreading shadows in equal parts and the only movement issuing from his lips of amaranth.

He was lost in the beauty of it all.

“ _One last day_ ,” he told himself when his phones buzz broke his reverie, “ _Time to get this over with._ ”

___

He arrived at the offices a little late, a little jittery.

Estelle greeted him from her desk, the sterile lighting a contrast to the warmth behind him this morning. “The wait might be a little long today. Neil has some things to do before he can see you.”

“That’s fine,” he said – because it was. _Today was going to be a good day._

But the call didn’t come, and after an hour Dan eventually had to ask what was wrong.

He leaned against the reception desk, looking right ahead at her.

“Oh, nothing. He’ll just be late.” Her lipstick was the same subdued pink, pristine in application and dull with glitter.

After 3 hours, his phone was seriously starting to lose battery, and all he wanted to do was get up and find Neil himself. He escaped to the restroom and called him, but was sent to voicemail. _What the fuck was going on,_ he thought.

Dan went back to the solitary waiting room. “I’m going to go get lunch. I’ll be back.”

“Oh, you can’t do that.” Estelle stood up suddenly. “I have orders to keep you here until Neil gets in.”

“I can do whatever I like now.” Dan made his way to the elevator, finding the freedom oddly satisfying.

“If you go I’ll have to tell him.”

“Good, maybe it’ll speed things along,” he turned with the quip and walked out, determined to shake the uneasy feelings he was having. “ _I’m done_.”

___

When he got outside the sky was darkening, and as he brought his hood up he wondered if he should have brought an umbrella. He texted Phil.

 _To Phil:_ you want lunch im still out

No response. He sent another as he walked down the slick road, not even sure where he was going himself.

 _To Phil:_ im going to get McDonalds what do you want

 _To Phil:_ ok ill see you when i get home idk why neil is taking so long might be really late love you

Dan shoved his phone in his pocket, sitting at a bench and abandoning his quest for food. He could’ve called Neil again, but it wouldn’t be of any use. Phil wouldn’t pick up either, probably finishing ties with the other dealers. His last day in the contract seemed uneventful, boring, – _wrong_. He wondered if when he got home Phil would make up for it, maybe he’d get another bottle of champagne for them or something. He hoped they would just lay on the couch and watch a movie. _Popcorn and Armand de Brignac_ , thought Dan, _what a send off. Jesus Christ._ He’d have to make Phil drink from the bottle this time, involuntarily closing his eyes at the mental image. Jesus Christ was decidedly _not_ invited.

“Daniel James Howell. You can’t listen to rules can you?” A deep, drawling accent growled next to him.

Dan turned, an indrawn breath caught in his throat. Next to him was another hooded man, sunglasses tight around his eyes and an envelope in his hands.

“Take this and go to the address. We have people watching. Don’t try to get out of this.”

He took the envelope with shaking hands, lightheadedness from the shock starting to come over him. _Oh god what is this about I don’t want to die I’m probably going to die._ “O-okay.”

_Shit._

___

“Welcome, Daniel. Sit down. We have to talk.”

Dan was at a business building, new by the looks of its paint still drying and the carpet reeking of chemicals. 

“Where am I?”

“Sit down,” Neil directed pointedly. Estelle stood behind him, another envelope in her hands.

He didn’t have anything else to do. He took a seat at the desk across from him.

“So Daniel, you must be wondering why I brought you here. I’m sorry I missed our meeting, but I really _did_ have other things to attend to.” He moved from behind the desk and sat at the corner. “But you’ve been bad.”

Dan stayed quiet, terrified of what lay before him. _Fuck fuck fuck._

“You can’t see this _Phillip_ , Daniel. I’m not going to sugar coat it, but that was it. I’m sorry things ended so badly.”

 _Ended so badly?_ Dan paled. It was _them_ , it was Estelle who knew where they lived, he knew it. _And she had told Neil_. 

All because of a Starbucks. 

Dan would have laughed.

“What went on between you two anyways?” His chapped lips snaked into a grin. “Everyone’s asking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dan could barely stay in his chair. He was lightheaded from anxiety, and doing everything he could to stop himself from rocking back and forth.

“We know.” Estelle laughed, a look of sly malice on her face. She opened the manila folder and held up a paper. It was the one that had shown up in his mailbox 3 days previous.

Dan’s stomach sunk.

“ _Where is he?_ ” The words had stumbled from his mouth as he had gotten up, a desire to rip Estelle’s throat to pieces and force feed them to Neil rising in him, only the fear of retribution stopping him. This was why Phil hadn’t responded- He stood with Neil’s breath hitting him.

“My-my now this is what I’m talking about!” he laughed. “Your paycheck doesn’t come when you act like that. What’ll all the mothers say when their teen daughters idol do drugs and play with boys?” He laughed and it sent a shiver up Dan’s spine. “Well, they’ll stop paying for all the _shit_ we put you on and _you’ll_ be on the streets.”

“I have money saved. The contract’s over. I don’t have to be here.” _Hit him you can do it one punch…_

“You’re lucky you know,” he said, ignoring Dan’s statement. “We’ve had to pay the tabloids off for weeks for some of the photos they got. You’re lucky you have us. Romantic Fourth of July escapade on your roof? _Really_?” He tsked. “I’d have thought you more intelligent than that.”

 _Shit_. 

The remark loosened his fists but the anger failed to abate, his voice crescendoing into a yell. “If it wasn’t for you I could live a somewhat _normal_ life.” 

“You’re famous Daniel!” Neil shouted back. “You’re life will never be normal!”

There was a silence. Dan could only hear the blood rushing to his head, asthmatic breaths fighting to surface. Neil stood defiantly, the same smug smile out on display. It was too much. Dan just wanted to run.

“We’re taking the money used for the tabloids from your final paycheck. Also,” he stopped, calculating his delivery, “we took the liberty of sending your – how shall I phrase this – _lover_ away. If I was you I’d get a book deal. Make something of this mess.”

Dan couldn’t process what was being said. He sat back down, a new wave of anxiety washing over him. His fingertips stung with sweat.

“ _What_?”

“Your friend is living in a place where you can’t find him. If you try to take this to the press we’ll make sure he’s sent to jail for illegal drug distribution and possession for the maximum time.”

_Silence._

“No – _please_.” It was useless, the words dry and meaningless against his ragged tongue, the sheer enormity hitting Dan like a comet on the desert floor, bewilderment flooding his senses until he couldn’t even breathe properly, the sheer weight of this – _this open secret_ – sinking him deeper into the chemical carpet.

“So what went on between you two?” he repeated, a distant echo to Dan’s ears.

 _If there’s a hell_ , Dan thought, _this was the Devil._

It takes everything to get it out. “I don’t have to _fucking_ tell you anything.” 

The smile slid off Neil’s stubbled chin. “Get out.”

___

That night, Dan could not cope.

He was drinking, sucking at the clear bottles until he felt like he would explode, wondering if a call to his mother would lessen the pain – if her voice would take him back to his childhood, before a camera bore him to the world. _Oh, his mother –_  she was as broken as him, but the alcohol ran to his head and nested, making phantasmagorias of mute memories, shining a sun that never shone and sketching smiles taken from abject frowns. He thought there were tears on his face, but it could have been very well the sweat from the convulsions, and he felt empty for not crying. But he _must have – why_ else would his eyes be as bloodied as the devil?

Through the fog he knew what Phil would say, he’d tell him to fuck it, take care of himself first. He wished it was that easy. But he couldn’t seem to wrap his dwindling mind around it: _Phil was gone. Because of him_. Almost,  _at one time Dan thought it was possible_ – but not anymore. No, a life together was no longer possible.

When Dan had gotten home he had searched the house, checking every room until his feet ached. He only saw the mess made when Phil was taken away, his clothes – _gone_ , his books – _gone_ , the little he had at their home almost entirely _gone_.

He took the glass from his nightstand and sipped at it medicinally, the pear colored liquid a poor substitute for love.

Regret never burned so bad as this 3 am fix.

___

He wanted to smoke, the pack in his back pocket uncomfortable on the park bench, pressed into him like a brand. But there were kids around, and he didn’t want to be yelled at by their mothers, didn’t want the kids to run away from him or make faces at him.

It had been a month since he last saw him. He didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much. Everything reminded him of Phil, the books on his nightstand, the mess on the kitchen table, bills he hadn’t paid and paychecks he didn't need. He wasn’t even staying in their house anymore, he couldn’t stand being in it alone and it struck him as awfully pitiable. No, Jennifer had let him stay over for as long he wanted, but even he knew he was overstaying his welcome. On his laptop he had booked his trip back, broke the deposit on the house they had found and renewed the lease at his London flat, trying to make a picture of what his future had.

Dan thought the worst thing was that he didn’t even get to say goodbye. Phil had been asleep – _shit_ he hoped he had woken up normally. He didn’t know if Phil had gotten his “ _love you_ ” text, didn’t even know how his last day was like.

The phone number had been disconnected, and even if by some miracle Phil could find him on social media he didn’t want to think about the literal lockdown they’d have to put themselves under. Dan still couldn’t fathom why Neil cared about what Dan did on his own time, stupid manager tied up in _looks_ and _business_ and _branding_. It was never about character with these people, _no_ it was how well you _showed_ yourself to the world. He didn’t know which one he was anymore, because the one everyone liked – _the sweet gentleman_ – wasn’t much who he was when he was with Phil. When he was with Phil he was realer. Freer. He was not perfect. And nobody else was either. It was a lie he could no longer pretend to understand.

He wished everyone could just stuff that in their brains. Then maybe they’d be together right now.

So maybe that was why he caught on to the nicotine. With every inhalation he could smell him again, taste him and suck the memories back in; secrets and shame and regret.

But mostly the secrets. It was the only thing keeping them together these days, now that he thought about it.

The smoke ran fissures through the fog; two opposites mixed.

Dan hadn’t finished _The Age of Innocence_. It lay underneath the last of the dirty laundry in their room, and he didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t even _want_ to finish it. When it was over – what of Phil would be left for him? The book – a secret. _I should read it_ , he thought. _If there’s closure in it – what if there isn’t_? _Fuck it_ , that had been the general modus operandi for him lately. 

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke stringing itself into the weave of his sweater. _I’ll go get it._

___

He unlocked the front door.

It was dark, the curtains drawn, and shadows played dangerously on the hardwood floor. Their room was upstairs, and he beelined to it, trying to avoid the inevitable mess of the kitchen that had been abandoned for weeks must be like.  


He was struck with finality of it all.

There were _his_ clothes and there was _his_ glass, his childhood elephant sat on the bookshelf from when Dan had finally convinced him to move in, and he could already see the dust starting to form around it, like an amber taking its victim. He could only stare at the remnants of their life together, already alien to him. So that was what he had left. He had been too shell shocked and drunk to see it.

“So the book,” he mumbled, kneeling at the laundry pile that had overflowed from the basket. “I wonder if the ending will make me think of you.” Dan knew it would, the conversation held only to silence the aching gap in his chest that _would_ not calm and _had not_ calmed since Neil had ruined his life that day.

“Will it make me miss you anymore?” There was a shaky laugh in vain to hold back tears but Dan could not pretend to be okay anymore. “Because I don’t really think that’s possible.” He bit into his hand, trying to ease the breathing that would soon collapse, but it hurt from the pressure and he could only take it back with beads of saliva sticking to his chin. “Remember when we got this book? You said the endings were never happy, and it was their fault. I’ll have to see how it turns out because I don’t believe that’s how things work to be honest.”

He sat in their dirty clothes for a while, justing looking ahead. _This was it._

At last Dan rummaged below to find the paperback.

He picked up the book. It felt tainted in his hands, sickening and vile and cancerous. This was the last thing Phil has to say to him, and it was already ruined, he knew Newland never gets with Ellen, and he knew nothing ever works out. The walls were shadows and he was the book, spent and unsurprising.

The bookmark was left at chapter 13. Dan read about a night at the theatre.

_“There was one episode, in particular, that held the house from floor to ceiling. It was that in which Harry Montague, after a sad, almost monosyllabic scene of parting with Miss Dyas, bade her good-bye, and turned to go. The actress, who was standing near the mantelpiece and looking down into the fire, wore a gray cashmere dress without fashionable loopings or trimmings, moulded to her tall figure and flowing in long lines about her feet._

_Around her neck was a narrow black velvet ribbon with the ends falling down her back. When her wooer turned from her she rested her arms against the mantel-shelf and bowed her face in her hands. On the threshold he paused to look at her; then he stole back, lifted one of the ends of velvet ribbon, kissed it, and left the room without her hearing him or changing her attitude. And on this silent parting the curtain fell.”_

He was stung with what he read. The woman was not even aware of his goodbye.

“Oh you cryptic shit.” He laughed through his tears. The paragraphs had been underlined. He wondered if this was all Phil had left to say, thumbing through the rest of the book and coming up empty handed. “I’m reading this for you, or otherwise I would have burned it.”

Dan rested his head on the dirty clothes, using the little light left in their old room to continue reading.

It was 3 am before he succumbed to sleep, migrating to the bed at around 1 with the same gold lamp casting the cheap grey pages into a poignant ochre. He had read close to 60 pages, and the spine creaked halfway through from the pressure put on it by his body. The story so far was dry and demanding, but he found in it small passages of beauty that keep him going.

Perhaps that was a way to live for now.

___

On December 1st, Dan finished moving his things out. 

Most of the stuff went to charity shops or neighbors, the lease had been extended the most he could face to argue. He thought maybe – _just maybe_ – things would go back to normal.

But it didn’t stop him from crying his last night in the house when they didn’t. He wasn’t supposed to alone tonight. The hardwood was supposed to be slick with champagne, the only liquid drank now, tears.

___

Dan was at the last of the book, the planes buzz soothing underneath him. _So he was really going home_. _After all that_. He shook his head, he couldn’t think about this right now, distracting himself on the last page. It was an epilogue of sorts, 25 years after Ellen and Archer parted, and the latter was visiting Paris with his son Dallas where Ellen now lived.

_“Archer sat down on the bench and continued to gaze at the awninged balcony. He calculated the time it would take his son to be carried up in the lift to the fifth floor, to ring the bell, and be admitted to the hall, and then ushered into the drawing-room. He pictured Dallas entering that room with his quick assured step and his delightful smile, and wondered if the people were right who said that his boy ‘took after him.’_

_Then he tried to see the persons already in the room--for probably at that sociable hour there would be more than one--and among them a dark lady, pale and dark, who would look up quickly, half rise, and hold out a long thin hand with three rings on it. . . . He thought she would be sitting in a sofa-corner near the fire, with azaleas banked behind her on a table._

_"It's more real to me here than if I went up," he suddenly heard himself say; and the fear lest that last shadow of reality should lose its edge kept him rooted to his seat as the minutes succeeded each other. He sat for a long time on the bench in the thickening dusk, his eyes never turning from the balcony. At length a light shone through the windows, and a moment later a man-servant came out on the balcony, drew up the awnings, and closed the shutters._

_At that, as if it had been the signal he waited for, Newland Archer got up slowly and walked back alone to his hotel.”_

And he was done.

He went to close the book but caught a tiny green star in the bottom right corner. _What the-?_ He turned the page.

_I love you. I miss you. I’m gonna be okay. I’ll see you one day. I’m sorry I messed this up for you. I love you. I love you._

So the books mysterious underlines _had_ been intentional. Phil had been able to do this before he left, probably when he was told he was never going to see the place again. Dan couldn't stop the tears from forming, and they fell hard and fast onto the page, the green ink melting under the cheap page. This was for him.

He was going to be okay.

___

**_Epilogue_ **

**_....._ **

For five years, that note has tortured Dan.  


Because for five years, they have not seen the other. Dan is 27 now and doesn’t look much like he used to, his hair is shorter and he is taller, his face leaner and showing the fine pinpricks of age. He wonders if Phil would recognize him. He hopes he would.

When it first hit, Dan went back to London, but it gave little solace to his pain, and going home only left him broker, his family significantly richer and the tabloids frightfully fuller.

He has been with other guys, but they only see him as a pity case, the washed up celebrity looking for a young love. Things have been _okay_ , but he hasn’t _loved_ since then, and _missing_ him was just a part of living – a divorce of feeling _needed_ , but never acted upon.

It’s New Year’s tonight, he’s alone at a bar and coming off a high, a little sick from the lights. New York City’s the place, and he’s watching the television from his seat with a vague sense of curiosity, wondering where everyone else is from. It makes him a little sad knowing he won’t get to kiss who he really want to tonight, _once again_. It’s 11, the bar packed and rowdy, and Dan needs to book his flight home, this fashion shoot has been a disaster and he can’t make himself attend the parties and galas he knows he’ll be trashed for. He looks like shit anyways. He gets up, leaving his drink to have a smoke in the alley adjacent.

“Happy New Years.” A man in a parka stands by the wall, the hood over his face but his voice is distinctly English.

“You too.” He lights his cigarette. “You’re not from around here I’m guessing.”

“No, Northern England.”

Dan almost drops the smoke in the snow.  


“Had a friend from there once.” He wants to walk over to the man but can’t bring himself to the inevitable disappointment, instead looking right ahead and trying to keep his voice clear.

“What happened to him?”

_It’s his voice he knew it he’d know it everywhere he couldn’t forget it-_

“Is that you?”

The man brings down the fur, a contrast of tiny snowflakes appearing on his hair. 

“You got me.” 

He can’t think straight. Five years of pain and then here he is. “Oh my God. You-” he stumbles on his words, “-you knew I was here?”

“I saw you walk out. I about fell over. Wanted to surprise you though.”

“I’ve been looking for you for years, _God you’re the same person_. Near gave me a heart attack.” He drops the cigarette anyways, wringing his hands through his hair as if to find some balance in the universe. “Oh my God you’re real.” Phil’s hair is shorter now and his clothes were clean cut; monied.

“I’d say the same thing about you.” The smile lines draw quick against his lips, and he stays there a little awkward, not knowing what to do next.

Dan would be offended if he didn’t think the exact same thing. “Come here?”

And Phil’s running at him, enveloping him into a hug, the two standing together _for god knows how long_ and taking each other in again, the experience anew.  


“ _Oh_ \- Dan I didn’t think I’d see this day so soon.” He’s laughing, swaying under the snowfall.

_This was it this was happening._

“I never want to leave you, I mean unless you’re seeing someone else...?” He can’t think straight, but that’s how it’s done in the movies and people move on-

“God no, none of them worked out.”

“Same.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They stay there in the snow, the only two quiet in the cacophony around them.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dan starts, “I mean I think about you a lot actually. Why things didn’t work out.” He’s running his hands against the stubble on Phil’s cheek, his hair, his citrine button down peeking through the parka-

“We’re not over yet, are we?”

“No, fuck- of course not. It’s just Hollywood and all that. Having to hide for so long. I look back and all I see was the inevitable. But I’ve been doing everything to look for you-” Dan’s thought about this for years, if fate was really as disillusioning as Phil had thought.

“The agency put up a lot of walls so this wouldn’t happen.”

“I have so much to say to you.”

“We have all night and more,” he laughs again, heedlessly. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve been thinking, like-” and Dan is again in the bed alongside the window, cheeks ruddied and nervous from how his mind is working, the sentences on his lips chanted as rituals by night. He doesn't fully understand what he's saying, but he feels it, and he can’t seem to give a damn anymore. _This is him._ “The screen is something else, it's fake and it lies and it’s so not us. Us– well we’re _real_ , Phil, I'm not going to pretend we never met to make others happy anymore. We’re not love on screen or martyrs on stage- like, _I won't make myself a part of somebody else’s fucking story_ and I won’t sacrifice what we have to fit into that mold. I’m a person and I am more than what others make me. We’re people and _we’re together_ and we’re more than what others make us. We’re just – _us_.” He looks down, watching as Phil’s eyes soften.

“You read the book.”

“Every page.”

“You see why I don’t like Wharton then?”

Dan can’t stop the tears. _He was real and he was here and they were going to be together again._  

He nods his head.

“Because you would have forced yourself to be okay with how things worked out, huh?”

He can only bring his arms out, taking Phil in again and kissing him for the first time in years, it’s sweet and there is no longer nicotine on them but it’s just as good, the night in the dingy room above the Chinese restaurant flooding back to him.

“I’m done with secrets.” Dan mumbles into his chest, breathing him in again and again, holding him like he’ll vanish into the neon air.

“Me too.”

“But I don’t want to forget them.”

“Neither do I.”

“I’m proud of them. We got through them – hell, we’re _going_ to get through them.” Phil grips him tighter, Dan’s taller than him now and has to lean his head up to kiss him properly.

“May I be the first to get rid of a secret?”

“Anything.”

“It’s something I don’t want to be just for us anymore. I want the world to now it.” He’s crying now, a small fraction harder than before – but his grip fails to loosen, the tears inveterate to his marbled cheeks.

“What is it?” Dan takes his arm away from him, bringing it up and fixing the quiff that had fallen, trailing it down to wipe the tear streams away.

“I love you. And I’m never going to forget it.”

Dan cannot breath. The tie is loose, cut, thrown to the snow sodden floor.

They stand in the alley, the flow of people on the city street passing them without care.

And slowly – but surely – they make their way to the current. You can see them, they are glowing gold, hand in hand with their secrets pinned to their hearts.

They smile; it tastes sweet in their mouths.


End file.
